October 12, 2009

I’m going to write these tales in chronological order, so then I can mentally delete them as I write them down. Makes sense to me! So first up, we have the last time me and William ever had sex. It wasn’t pleasant, at least towards the end of our early morning session.

He had come to visit me at uni, as I was still working to try and finish my MSc, whereas he had finished his degree and had moved back home. In the morning I was frantically trying to get ready for uni, as I had a lot to do in the lab that day, and William was, typically, taking his time and occasionally getting in the way. As we stood in the house, saying our goodbyes, something happened: a tingle up my spine as he held me, and a sudden urge to just drag him to bed and have him straight away. The thought of driving to uni was pushed to the back of my mind as it was overpowered by the need to have him pressed against me.

We smashed our lips into each other, kissing frantically whilst tearing off our clothes. I pulled him with me as I moved towards the bed, and we both collapsed, him on top of me, into the soft bedding. There was no foreplay – somehow, we didn’t need it, as we just wanted it that badly.

But it turns out that we did need foreplay: as William withdrew after our respective orgasms, a pool of blood formed on my duvet. William had torn his foreskin.

He had done this before, so this surprised me that it had happened again – surely it had hurt and he would have stopped? Apparently it did hurt, but that wasn’t enough to stop him.

It came to light in a later conversation between the two of us, after we had split up, that he knew we weren’t doing too well, but he was willing to do anything to try and make it better. Which is sweet, in a way. But is a relationship really worth spilling blood over, when you know that it’s effectively ended?

April 18, 2009

As a break from revision (for him) and horrible, horrible research (me), William and I decided to go to the theatre for the night. We invited friends along to make it a nice outing. It was thoroughly enjoyable, I think I’ve managed to convert William to the theatre now. Next on the list is Shakespeare.

Anywho, we drove home, the conversation topic stayed mainly on the show. When we got home, we closed the door and continued talking, and it was like one of those really soppy romantic rom-com movies, as we turned towards each other, moved a little closer together and then started kissing. Just like two magnets.

So the clothes came off, an item at a time. I dropped the keys I was holding to the floor, which made a loud ‘thud’. Soon we were both standing in the middle of the room, completely naked. I didn’t need to persuade him tonight: he got right down on his knees without a word from me and started licking. It felt good, as we’d had a whole week without sex, which has been heightened over the weekend by the ‘no hanky panky’ rule laid down by the rents.

He pulled me down on top of him so I was sitting on his face. I played with his hair as he grabbed my bum and pulled me forcefully onto his mouth even more, and moved me backwards and forwards over his tongue. He even ventured into indulging me with a little rimming, but not for long, as his intentions ultimately lay elsewhere.

My bed was a mess (huge surprise for me), so we turned our attention to possible floor space.

He went on top first. The friction between my back and the carpet wasn’t exactly nice…..but then again, I was having orgasms so I didn’t care! He had slid into me in one stroke, I was so wet and ready for him. My legs were intertwined with his, and as I experienced the crescendo before coming, I wrapped my arms around his waist so tightly, just to keep him in that spot that would guarantee my orgasm.

Without letting me come down from my dizzy high, he flipped me over: my legs ached from being spread apart, perhaps due to lack of practise. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone a whole week without sex. He slid into me once again from behind, one hand on my waist, the other on my back, pushing lightly to indicate me wanted me on the floor. So there I was, bum in the air, my torso pressed to the floor. I was slightly worried I’d get carpet burns on my breasts!

He leant over me and whispered ‘where do you want it?’

‘I don’t mind, I don’t care, make me come again, please!’

In response to this, he fucked me so hard, then suddenly withdrew, and then, basically, I gave him an arse-crack wank (if anyone has a better name for this, let me know): he rubbed his cock up and down the middle of my cheeks, before coming over my back. I could feel the warmth of his come as it hit my skin, and I sighed, knowing that he was satisfied.

It wasn’t until after all this, William said: ‘Does your back hurt? It’s awfully red’….

March 28, 2009

Me and William hadn’t seen each other for 8 days. That isn’t very long, but I had been out of the country, so there was a need on his part to see me, maybe to just check that I was still in one piece. He picked me up from my office (I have my own office *Squee*!), and it took all my sterness, dominance, and a little bit of willpower to stop him taking me there and then. As tempting as the thrill of workplace sex was, I didn’t want to upset my supervisor who was in the office next door.

So into the car we get: he is playing with my hair all the way home. William likes this: he likes playing with mine as a type of foreplay, and he likes me to play with his as part of post-coital cuddles. We pulled up at my house, straight in, no fuss, clothes off. Yes, that quickly, like lightning. I do manage to get a bit of oral though. The moment his mouth touched my already swelling lips…well, it was like ecstacy. It was like I had never had it before, as I had been fantasising about this since the last time I saw him.

Foreplay on his part was non existant: he wanted me now. So he took me. His cock replaced his mouth and he slid his length into me, stretching me in the most pleasurable way. As he rocked inbetween my legs, the orgasm was building for both of us, and as we locked lips, I felt him shudder as he came, which was what I needed to tip me over the crest of the wave and come myself.

Unfortunetly, cuddles were cut shorts. As he pulled out, we discovered there was blood everywhere. I started to panic, wondering what the hell was wrong with me this time when I realised it was William bleeding:

“I thought it hurt a bit when we were doing it, but I decided to just keep going”, he said, trying to clean up the blood. He had ripped his frenulum, which was bleeding ferociously. I told him to go and have a shower and clean up, while I sorted out the bed linen and put it to the wash. Fortunetly, the rip didn’ seem too big, and we hoped it wold heal soon, as one orgasm for 8 days apart isn’t really enough!

William still wanted sex though: in bed later that night he was pulling his best moves on me, but I honestly felt so guilty about the whole thing I turned him down. What if it started again? I told him it was best to wait until it was healed completely until we tried again.

But morning light came, as did out need to work on our orgasm tally. How would we resolve this?

“You could always rub yourself and I could watch?” he suggested. What an excellent idea. I didn’t need persuasion. I got to work straight away, building myself up, turned on by him rubbing himself in front of me.

As I came, he was grinning broadly, but still rubbing himself, somewhat more tenderly than usual. I asked him if he needed a hand (no pun jokes!). He got up, out of bed and stood before me, his cock right in front of my mouth. I circled the tip with my tongue and gripped the base with my hand and rubbed it tightly. I took as much of his length as I could into my mouth, and worked his cock, moving my mouth and my hand together in tandem until I felt his come hit the back of my mouth.

December 17, 2008

I love being home at Christmas: it’s cosy and there’s that element of festivity in the air that makes everything warm and fuzzy. But you cannot update your blog for fear of one of your rents walking in on you. I’ve had to type this entry over a week! Although this happened three weeks ago now, I can still remember it because it was so good! Me and my gorgeous musician, William, had been trying to be good, to wait a bit until we had sex, as we didn’t want to rush into things. We wanted it to be done properly and for it to be (clique as it sounds) special.

So we set a date, as basically every time we saw each other the electricity and sexual tension between us was huge. We hadn’t had penetrative sex, but he had already made me come just through touching me and rubbing my clit through my clothes. We knew that by setting a date, we could set the scene, make everything perfect and it would mean we wouldn’t give into the urge and have a quickie.

William was going to cook for me, I was to supply the dessert (actual dessert here, not sex!). I arrived at his house, slightly late as I had been making myself up, and had the dilemna of ‘to dress up or not to dress up’. I decided to dress up slighty, with fancy underwear, a simple ,yet cleavage enhancing dress and high heels. He had already started cooking when I got there. There’s something sensuous about cooking together, sharing the wine as you cook: he would stand behind me at the cooker, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other copying my own arm and stirring the vegetables in the pan. He would carefully tease me, lowering his head to my neck to kiss the curve it made as it joined my shoulders. Then it was back to business. Oh yes, teasing indeed.

I have to say, I was nervous. Well, perhaps 10% nervous, 90% excited (Ode to Armageddon). I knew it was going to be good, I don’t know how, but I did. After our sumptuous dinner, he lead me upstairs by the hand, where he’d tidied his room especially (messy boys!). We stood in the middle of the room, in each others arms, kissing each other, slowly letting the feeling of wanting increase even more than it already was between us.

My dress was the first thing to come off, as he untied the ribbons at the back and lifted it up over my head. He briefly ran his eyes over my body in approval, his hands on my waist, pulling me towards him to embrace me as we kissed again. He walked me to his bed, still kissing me, and laid me down on it.

I would like to point out that at this point I was frustrated at the fact that I was semi-naked but he was still fully dressed. As if he was reading my mind, he pulled his shirt up over his head, and then I pulled him on top of me so he was between my legs.

As our hands wandered over each others bodies, my hands running through his hair (I had previously discovered this makes him putty in my hands), I moved my head to his side so I could kiss the length of his neck: starting at the jawline, up to the earlobe where I gently nibbled, then onto that part just behind his ear, where I bit down. This made William moan with pleasure, and he wrapped me up in his arms, squeezing me and pulling me closer to him.

This was definitely the catalyst to William getting the rest of his clothes off, as I was soon helping him undo his belt and pull his trousers off (he handled the socks!). He returned to his previous position of being on top of me, as I lifted my legs up and wrapped them around him, encouraging him to start rubbing and stimulating my clit through my knickers with his already rock-hard cock. He returned the favour of kissing me on the neck, gently nibbling my shoulders.

Then he quietly asked, almost nervously ‘Do you want to do it?’, which I thought was incredibly sweet. I nodded, probably with a schoolgirl grin on my face, as he got up to get a condom from the drawer (yes, an advertisement for safe sex!). While he was up rumaging through the drawer, I took the remainder of my clothes off, a lay, somewhat seductively, with my arms above my head and one knee bent, to entice him back to bed quicker.

In fairness, I don’t think it mattered how I positioned myself, he’d have hurried back anyway! He lay on top of me, with his hand between my legs, gently circling my clit. This was driving me wild, as I’d rather have his fingers inside of me, so I pleaded with him to do so. He did, thrusting two fingers deep inside me, causing me to literally arch my back in pleasure. He eased his fingers out of my, only to replace them with his cock, sliding it into me, as I gasped at how it filled me up completely.

I was already worked up to oblivion, so it was inevitable that it wouldn’t take long for me to come: our legs were entwined, my fingernails were digging into his buttocks, I was biting down hard onto his shoulder, and with each thrust it brought me closer to climax, which was earth-shattering, causing my body to shake. It was very good. As it turned out, he likes it rough, so the fingernails and the biting tipped him over the edge, too.

Our night did not end there though, oh no. After a short breather, comprising of mini hugs and kisses and snuggling under the duvet, it was time to raunch it up a bit. Cue my favourite (well, it was. I’m now torn, as William makes the missionary so damn good), from behind. Being as I was feeling so rested after our cuddles, I decided to be lazy and lie on my front, propped up on my forearms, and have William slide into me from behind like that. This meant he got to lie on top of me again, and I could turn my head to kiss him passionately as he thrust into me from behind.

Here’s the funny bit (it’s funny now): William is quite well endowed, at least seven inches, so he has to be careful he doesn’t go too deeply. Which he did. And it hurt! This resulted in me whipping my head back in response to the pain, and headbutting him. So concerned was William about him hurting me that he withdrew and insisted in giving me a head massage. I’d completely forgotten the fact that I’d headbutted him, so he had received the pain too.

Once we’d got over the multiple pains, we giggled, and started all over again.

July 10, 2008

I mentioned earlier that other stuff has been going on in my life, deep, dark stuff. After my nan died, and Barry wasn’t there for me, I needed someone, anyone, so turned to counseling. I had about 3 months of counseling, and now I’ve been discharged (I like to think I’m now ‘sane’ lol). The reason for needing counseling was simply because I felt I had no one to turn to, and I’d never felt so down in my life before. The smallest thing would set me off.

Apart from learning to deal with my grief, one of the topics my counsellor went over was relationships (ideal timing, no?), past and present (initially I was still with Barry, but she made me realise that what he did was wrong, and although she didn’t force me, made me see sense as to Barry’s mentality to our relationship). The main relationship we focused on was my 21 month relationship with a man in my first years at uni. He won’t have an alias. I can’t bring myself to give him one. He can be given a ‘You-Know-Who’ alias, Harry Potter style.

So basically, I knew that he treated me like shit. He was violent on more than one occasion. I remember once we were in a public place and we were arguing because he wanted some money (something he always wanted, even though he had a job, and me living off of my student loan. I usually gave in) and I didn’t want to. He grabbed my neck and raised his fist telling me to shut up. This was in public, surrounded by people. No one came over and pulled him off of me or asked if I was ok, they just turned a blind eye. That’s when I the mentality set in that I deserved this. There was just one other time that he was violent, when he was angry at me for some reason, I don’t even know why, and he threw me into the car, seriously injuring my leg. The scars were still visible when I met Barry, several months after we had broken up.

He was devious. He used my weaknesses against me ‘in the name of love’. I don’t open up to people often, he is the reason why. I told him one of my deepest, darkest secrets, that I used to have bulimia, about 18 months into our relationship, which is when it started to unravel. He used this against me, telling me what I could and couldn’t eat, saying I was fat, and at times, actually starving me for anything up to 24 hours. It was literally torture.

Then there was the constant criticism: you’re stupid, you’re driving’s terrible, you look like crap, why haven’t you got more make-up on? Or, you have too much make-up on, you look like a slag. Or his favourite, telling me what to wear.

Even sex was more like a chore than an enjoyment. It was when he wanted it, how he wanted it, and if he finished before me, then that’s my problem.

Why didn’t I do something about it? Like I said, months of him working up to this, gnawing away at my self-confidence to the point where I thought I deserved this and this was what love is like and I couldn’t do any better. It wasn’t until he cheated on me that I stood up and paid attention. I knew I was better than this.

My counsellor looked as if she needed counselling after I finished! But in a way, telling her has made me realise that everything he did was a form of abuse, not just the odd violent attacks. It makes me sad to think I was so weak at one point. It’s also sad that any guy who pays me a compliment is instantly ‘a nice guy’ just by comparison. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. A compliment is still a compliment.

So, this is my deepest darkest post I think. I message to anyone who reads it that abuse isn’t just a fist in the face.

June 19, 2008

Will be out of action for a while longer it seems, I have a broken heart to mend now. Me and Barry broke up earlier tonight.

I don’t particularly want to go into details…but I ended it. Or more specifically, I told him where the door is.

He said he didn’t love me and that he never will.

Good enough reason?

And I’m not kidding myself with delusions of him coming to his senses and asking for me back this time next week. Because even if he did, he wouldn’t actually pluck up the courage to do it.

I feel like I’ve wasted a year, and that all the dreams I had for the future with him have gone. I’ve wasted a year on someone who likes me ‘a lot’, who I’ve stood by through thick and thin…to end up with this. Although I know it’s not true, I feel like there’s something wrong with me. What’s so bad about me that he couldn’t fall in love with me? After everything? I feel exactly how I did a year ago (to the day, in fact) when I got out of the abusive relationship I was in, where I felt like I deserved to be treated that way. And you know who picked up the pieces? Barry did.

I just….I find it hard to believe he doesn’t love me. Things he does, the way he is (was) makes me think he loved me. But in truth I know he’s scared that the long-distance relationship would tear us apart and he’d love in vain.

I feel like I’ll never find anyone as good (if that’s the appropriate word here). I thought I’d be sad about being single and missing sex, but in truth….I miss him.

June 16, 2008

Yes, fellow bloggers, I will be ‘out of action’ for a while.

During my trip last week I had the misfortune to be in a road accident and ended up in hospital. So am very achy! Luckily, I have a splendid boyfriend who doesn’t mind looking after me by giving me massages when I require them 🙂 Bless him though, he was so worried about me, partly because he didn’t know what was going on exactly, and was trying to get hold of me, but of course, I was in hospital. Me, on the other hand, was more worried about my car.

But that does mean that sex is off the agenda for at least this week until the pain/aches subside. I wouldn’t even be able to lie there motionless (not that I would….that’s a bit weird isn’t it?) because it’d hurt!

So am relaxing lots. Enjoying having lots of free time to myself and doing mini bouts of exercise so I can be back in the saddle (so to speak!) soon.

I shouldn’t have mentioned saddles, because now I’m thinking of riding crops! Yummy!